Shake It Out
by goldenthyme
Summary: AU. Castiel doesn't remember anything of his prior life, and he's spent the last year in a mental facility. Life's been as normal as it could be, considering. But when someone from Cas's past shows up, things start resurfacing. Not Sam/Castiel.
1. Chapter 1

"How are you feeling today?"

"…"

"How are you feeling today, Jimmy?"

"That is not my name."

"Yes, it is."

"…I thought you said you couldn't identify me? That no files matched my prints?"

"That was true. At first."

"At first? It hasbeen a year."

"It was difficult to locate. It was…buried."

"What do you mean by _buried_?"

"Someone hid it. Your file couldn't be completely deleted, so he hid it. Quite masterfully, too."

"He?"

"Or she."

Why did he…or she… hide my file?"

"We don't know."

"…You said Jimmy. What's my full name?"

"Jimmy Novak."

"That is not my name."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"What's your name, then?"

"I do not know."

"Why is your file under Jimmy Novak's name if you are not him?

".."

"Have you _tried_ remembering your former life?"

"…"

"Are you afraid of remembering?"

"…maybe."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

He sat hunched over, his gaze cast to the floor. His hair stuck up in almost every direction. His face was thinly covered in stubble. He'd forgotten to shave again.

Jimmy Novak, formerly John Doe. Found June 6, 2013, unconscious, pumped full of bullets. Woke three days later while still in the ICU.

Refused, or couldn't, speak for three weeks. Started with simple words. Even now, many things escaped him. His use of language was remarkable, considering his inability to remember anything of the world. Forget mentioning the latest movie or song, even the mention of New York was met with a blank stare.

Sean Delphy had made John – Jimmy – his project. His case wasn't unusual. Delphy had encountered many who claimed amnesia, but often times his patients were minor – or at times major – criminals trying to use the illness to postpone trial. A few cases were genuine, but none was as vast as Jimmy's, casting his whole past in shadow.

"Jimmy," Delphy began again. There was something about that name. He normally didn't like to push his patients on a hunch, but…

"Do not call me that." Jimmy's voice came out a growl, quite frightening considering his already deep voice. Unusually forceful, too. Compliance was Jimmy's norm. His eyes had also met Delphy's in an unblinking stare. Staring was not odd for Jimmy, either, but he almost never initiated direct eye contact.

Jimmy paused. "You're evaluating my reaction," he noted flatly.

"No such thing, Jimmy" Delphy said. Patients were always being evaluated, of course, but they never took kindly to the fact.

"Do not call me Jimmy," Jimmy insisted again. Delphy frowned.

"We'll need to discuss your…_that_ name eventually."

"Not now. Please, not now."

"Then it is gone from my mind. For now."

The man broke gaze with Delphy.

"Do you mind if I call you John, again?" Delphy asked. John shrugged.

"What name do you wish to be called?"

"I don't know," John whispered.

"What is the first name that comes to mind?"

John was silent for a moment.

"You know."

"I do. I want to hear it again," Delphy said calmly.

"…Dean."

"But it is not _your_ name?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Yet you can't connect it to a memory."

John closed his eyes. "It is like a chalkboard. Everything big and important and memorable is gone. Only, there was something so insignificant, so light, that it was missed."

"I don't believe that."

John opened his eyes and cocked his head. His eyes focused on a place just over Delphy's shoulder.

_"It's not autism, Catherine. He's too interactive. Besides, there's none of the other typical signs. He just seems to avoid eye contact. The closest thing I can think of that it might be is some sort of muscle memory, but that doesn't make sense."_

_ "Doesn't make sense, or you don't want it to make sense?" Catherine shifted and wrapped her arm around Sean's chest. Sean's brow furrowed. A queasy feeling filled his stomach._

"Perhaps it's the opposite," Delphy suggested. "Perhaps the name was so heavily inscribed that it couldn't be erased." John said nothing.

" Has anything else seemed familiar?"

John stared at a placed just over Delphy's shoulder.

"Nothing," he said.

Lucy was curled up on a cushioned seat in the gathering room. She drew whirling shapes on her hand with a sharpie.

"You're not supposed to do that," John remarked as he sat in the chair to her left.

"There's someone new." She ignored his comment. John sighed.

"There's always someone new."

"He's long term, though. And in the dual rehab program."

John tilted his head. Some in the rehab clinic met with the doctors in the mental facility, but to be in rehab and listed as a psychological patient was odd.

"He has his own room," Lucy said flatly.

"He's dangerous?"

"No. You know the dangerous people don't stay here. Probably still shaky. He _is_ doing rehab."

"Oh."

"He's very tall."

"Mhm."

"…I'm leaving tomorrow."

John's eyes snapped up, not quite meeting hers.

"Why?"

"Been here a month already. Jerry said I don't need to stay now that the pills are doing their job. And I know to call if things get really bad again."

"By bad, do you mean "jumping off a bridge" bad?"

Lucy laughed. "He said to come in before it gets _that_ bad." She drew a smiley face on her wrist before peaking up at John.

"Are you mad?" she asked softly.

"Mad? That you're better? Of course not," John scoffed. He was hurt, though. He liked Lucy. They'd connected. The month she'd been in the facility was one of the happiest months of his life.

His year long life, that is.

"Promise you'll call? We'll talk about just random stuff. Like, try talking to the new guy. He might be nice. And, you know, you could fill me in on what happens." Lucy drew an arrow from the smile.

"Your parents won't mind you talking to a man almost twice your age?"

Lucy shook her head. "Maybe if this was my first time in a hospital, they would. But they know that age stops mattering in places like this. They know I'm smart enough to know who to trust."

"They trust a kid that tried to kill herself that much?" John cocked his head again. Lucy giggled.

"They also check with the hospital to make sure my…friends aren't dangerous. So, no, they don't really trust me all that much. But they try. They really do try." Lucy's voice had turned sad. She rose from her chair and gave John a hug.

"You'll make him feel welcome right?" She asked. "The new guy, make him feel welcome for me. Promise."

John knew that she was trying to find someone to be his friend now that she was leaving. His heart twisted at her request.

"I promise," he said.

* * *

><p>So, I'm sure some of y'all are wondering what this will be entailing. It's an AU, obviously, but there are some elements that are going to be transferring over from the show, though in a more real world setting.<p>

There will be hints of Destiel, mostly because I believe that Castiel does have feelings for Dean in the show, but it won't be anything major, so I hope people who like other pairings will read this as well.

I'll try to be good with updates, which some of you know I'm REALLY bad about. Reviews will certainly help me feel motivated. Knowing people are reading always helps a writer

Be sure to visit my tumblr as well! I'll be posting about updates there:

goldenthyme. tumblr .com

So, thanks for reading! Peace out!


	2. Chapter 2

John saw him at dinner. It was hard _not_ to see the man. He towered over everyone else, and his large muscles were visible even through the hospital's baggy blue clothes. He looked tired. Slight bags darkened his eyes. It didn't surprise John – the man was part of rehabilitation program, after all. Loss of sleep was a promise if someone was off the wall enough to be checked into the place. Still, the man made an effort to smile at people. He still looked tired, but also relaxed. He looked happy, something that was unusual in this part of the building. Still, he stayed away from others. That was normal. If he'd gone up to people and tried befriending them, _that'd _be strange. People weren't too trusting. You weren't here because you were trusting.

_Sammy's good at faking it. He can make everyone think that he's fine. Chances are, though, he isn't._

John froze. The thought had come out of nowhere…was it a thought? It'd seemed gruffer than John's voice.

John's hands shook. Could it be a memory? Could he hope? Or had it merely been a fabrication triggered by his earlier session?

"John? What's wrong?" Lucy set her spaghetti, at least, she _hoped_ it was spaghetti, down on the table. Her friend was trembling. As she'd approached, he had wrapped his arms around himself.

He looked up, and the girl received a jolt. He was staring into her eyes as if she was his only lifeline. John almost never made eye contact.

"He-he…I think I might know him?"

"_What?_" A shiver ran down the girl's spine.

"He…the new guy, that you said I should…? He, I think I know him."

"You think so? John, you've never," Lucy took a breath, "I repeat, _never_, have had a flashback, a feeling, a…whatever." The man nodded several times. At least, Lucy thought he nodded. He was shivering so much that it was hard to tell.

"I heard something…In my head. Not like a solid thing…kind of like a thought? It was…it had a name."

"What name?"

"Sammy."

Lucy took a breath. If John actually knew the newbie, it'd be big. It'd be a step toward opening up John's memory. Hell, it'd be a step toward knowing his name. And to figuring out how he got in that hospital…

"Well, there's only one way to find out." She took another breath, a larger one.

"Wait, what are you d–?"

"HEY NEWBIE!," Lucy yelled at the top of her lungs. There were winces throughout the room. The man looked up, obviously confused, and pointed at himself.

"Yeah, you! Get over here!"

"I don't think that-"

"Do you want to check this out or not?" Lucy stuck her fork in the spaghetti…goo thing and made a face. At least she wouldn't have to eat the food there after that day.

"But-" John shut up quickly as the guy approached their table. He was certainly a lot taller than John initially thought – scratch that, the guy was gigantic. It didn't made John feel any better.

"Sit down, newbie, or should I call you probie? Would you think I watch too much television if I called you probie?" Lucy was easy going, like the guy was just anyone else. Meanwhile, John stared into his lap, his hands clutching his knees.

The man laughed. "Nah, I watch a lot of TV as well. NCIS?"

"Hell yeah. Big fan. Abby's my favorite. She's so quirky!"

"I like Gibbs, myself. Awesome guy." The man visibly relaxed into the conversation.

"Huh. I'd tabbed you more for a Tony fan. You look the type." The man laughed.

"So, probie," Lucy leaned forward. "Mind telling us your real name, so we don't have to keep going around treating a guy who's half our height like an underling? Wait, scratch that. That sounds appealing."

The man laughs again. "My name's Sam."

John's head throbbed.

Lucy still smiled, but her eyes tightened a bit around the corners.

"Hello Sam."

* * *

><p>Sorry for the insanely short chapter (666 words, though. Nice number). Also, I apologize for taking so long. This update was likely one of the most difficult ones in this storyline. I already have things written for the next few, so you'll be seeing them shortly.<p>

I'll be replying to the reviews shortly :)


	3. Chapter 3

_Black stain outlined a sea of red._

"_Quantus tremor est futurus,__  
><em>_Quando iudex est venturus,__  
><em>_Cuncta stricte discussurus._

_"Tuba mirum spargens sonum__  
><em>_Per sepulchra regionum,__  
><em>_Coget omnes ante thronum._

_"Mors stupebit, et natura,__  
><em>_Cum resurget creatura,__  
><em>_Iudicanti responsura."_

_In the end not a single person was saved._

* * *

><p>"Hey, man. You alright?"<p>

John sat in front of a card table. John's singers ached. They had been tightly clenching the hard plastic bottom of his chair.

"Blanking out. Is that something you do often?" Sam asked.

John's eyes refocused. A chess board lied before him. His game.

"No," John mused to the man standing over him. "It is not something I normally do." Sam's brow crinkled.

"You're going to tell your doctor, right?"

John's hand ghosted over a pawn.

"You're a worrier," he noted. The taller man gave John an unamused look.

"And you're," Sam said flatly, "avoiding the question." John shrugged and moved the white pawn sideways one space.

"Sit, Sam."

Sam stared at John for a few moments before shuffling to the seat on the other side of the table.

"Do not worry. I will notify my therapist of my lapse in consciousness," John said. _Among other things_.

Sam jutted his jaw, but he said nothing.

The two lapsed into silence. John moved a black pawn three spaces forward, then a white rook one diagonal space to the forward left. He afforded a flicker of a glance towards Sam, who now watched the board with confusion on his face.

"That's not chess."

"No." John slid another black pawn three spaces forward. "It's not."

"What is it?"

"It does not have a name. And, if you're going to ask about the rules, it does not have those either. Well, set ones. They change."

"Do any of the rules stay the same?"

"One," John sighed. "To survive."

* * *

><p>Quickie chapter as an apology for my...well. I suck at updating.<p>

Ciao!


	4. Chapter 4

John woke precisely at 5:45 a.m. every morning since his recovery. Every day for a whole year. Dr. Delphy had a few theories. John had commuted to work, or he had been in the military, contributing to a strict schedule. The doctor had frowned heavily at the idea of John in the military, and he noted the greatest possibility was the former. The doctor then said that John could sleep in while in the hospital. He had no obligations such as work.

In the end, John made no effort to change his sleeping habits. It ensured he would almost always see the sunrise. Sunrise was a calmer time of day. The city was just beginning to sleepily wake. Even birds were not yet beginning to chirp. And the beauty of that rising sphere of light, reflecting on and refracting around buildings and fountains was universal. John did not need to know his name to enjoy that scene. He didn't need describe it. It was and would always be, long after humans fell into oblivion.

Never before had John felt such a need for that certainty, that serenity. With Sam's arrival and Lucy's looming departure, his insides were in knots.

Why did he know Sam? How? Especially since it was becoming increasingly obvious that Sam did _not_ know him in return. Was it really a recall, or did he over hear some gossipy nurse?

If it was a recall, were more memories to follow? He didn't know if he liked the sound of that.

What if he didn't like himself, when all was said and done?

The sun seemed to glare at him through his window as it climbed the horizon.

A shower followed the sunrise, a quick, cold shower that left no time for lingering thoughts. Though, once finished, John grudgingly thought about the possibility of his returning memories. He enjoyed many privileges at the hospital that other admitted individuals did not due to the stability of his condition. He was no threat to himself or others. In fact, he was only here as a precaution, for the possibility of his memories returning and triggering dangerous responses. How traumatic would they be, those memories, he wondered. Would he reach a point where he could no longer shower without supervision or handle sharp objects? Would he have to restrict his contact with people?

His hands shook as he dressed himself in the loose, blue uniform of the hospital residents.

"The last time, Johnny Boy! This is the last time I have to eat this gooey fake crap they call breakfast!" Lucy exclaimed as she chewed the eggs openmouthed. She stabbed at the eggs and stopped her fork mid-air, twisting it left and right. "This feels almost nostalgic."

John smiled down at his plate. Lucy would never admit how nervous she was, but her voice shook slightly.

"Now," she transferred the eggs to her mouth and pointed the fork at John, "they have my home phone on file. I told Andres, you know, the head nurse? Anyways, I told him that if you ask for it, you get it. You and a couple others and that's it." She swallowed and took a gulp of orange juice. "He probably noted in the files, so it should be fine to ask any of the nur – "

"Um, sorry to interrupt. Is it okay to sit here, again?" Sam stood awkwardly by the table. Lucy waved at him to sit before continuing.

"So it's okay to ask any of the nurses at reception. Probably not the ones on rounds. They can be really cranky some days." Sam blinked.

"Um, what is going on?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, not much," Lucy grinned. "I'm just breaking out!" Sam gave her a shocked look.

"She's been released," John elaborated. Sam nodded and gave an impressed frown.

"Nice. Shame I came so late," he teased. "Less than a day to know you."

"Nah, you can get to know me through old John, here!" Lucy pushed John's shoulder. "_And_ you can make sure he calls me! You'll hit it right off. He said you seemed interesting the other day."

That was a bit of a misleading truth, there.

"Really? He seemed a bit angry at me after dinner. Spoke really clipped like. I thought he didn't like me."

John just didn't like what Sam represented.

"I always speak in that manner. I'm sorry if I seemed irritated." He couldn't let Lucy dictate the conversation. Sam seemed surprised that John spoke.

"No, no! My mistake," he apologized, shaking his head. "I shouldn't be quick to judge. Of _all _people I shouldn't."

"Because of being in rehabilitation?" John asked. Lucy almost hit her head against the table before just deciding to prop her face up loosely with her hands.

"Sam, I know you introduced yourself last night, but meet John, king of being blunt and not caring what we're isn't exactly tactful to ask. Believe it or not he knows better. Guy just goes after what he's curious about," she groaned. Sam gave a nervous smile.

"Hit the nail on the head, though," Sam said. John could have sworn he heard Lucy mutter _he usually does that too_ under her breath.

"I…was in the military for some time. Was from a military family and went to college and joined the ROTC," Sam began. "Got stationed in Iraq for some time. Wasn't exactly the best place, you know? When I came back, I freaked out. A lot of soldiers do. It made me feel really useless." His voice faded toward the end of his sentence.

"Someone convinced me to…try something. Said I'd feel better, stronger, more in control." He stopped again, and he swallowed. "I thought they were right at first, but it ended up being the opposite. The more I took, the less in control I was. Took a long forgotten voicemail from my brother to convince me to find help." He let out a sharp laugh, almost hysterical.

"Can you believe that? It wasn't even him. Just a recording. That's all I needed to know how far in deep shit I'd gotten myself." For a big man, Sam managed to almost fold in on himself while talking. He looked small, and his muscles quivered.

"What about you guys," he asked. "What are you in for?" He let out another laugh as he exaggerated the last sentence.

John forced himself to look the man in the eye, just long enough to get a handle on him.

The eyes were manic, as evidenced by his reaction to his own tale, but also warm.

* * *

><p><strong>That's right, an update<strong>

**I update slooooow. When I feel like it. So take comfort in that it means that there's always hope for an update. Even a year and a half later. Dude.**

**A year and a half also means I've had a lot of time to think about the plot. I'm pretty sure of where I'm going. If you like what you read, by all means, keep on. It might not be what I promised in previous notes, but I'll do my best to make it entertaining.**


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